


watch me unfold

by braithwaites



Series: the hounds of hades [5]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Blindfolds, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingerfucking, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Trust Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braithwaites/pseuds/braithwaites
Summary: In the earliest hours of the morning, the camp was quiet as a grave.Quiet enough to hear a rustle of fabric damn near echo within the canvas walls of Dutch’s tent. When that strip of silk was stretched over closed eyes and tied into a knot, they could hear the sigh that friction brought forth.“Do you trust me?” the voice was thick from sleep, rattling in the throat of the speaker. “Remember: whisper. We don’t wanna wake anyone up now, do we?”Dutch let go of a low chuckle.





	watch me unfold

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: " **Do you trust me?** "
> 
> Title taken from "Unfold" by Alina Baraz.

In the earliest hours of the morning, the camp was quiet as a grave.  
  
Quiet enough to hear a rustle of fabric damn near echo within the canvas walls of Dutch’s tent. When that strip of silk was stretched over closed eyes and tied into a knot, they could hear the sigh that friction brought forth.  
  
“Do you trust me?” the voice was thick from sleep, rattling in the throat of the speaker. “Remember: whisper. We don’t wanna wake anyone up now, do we?”  
  
Dutch let go of a low chuckle.  
  
Beneath that strip of red silk, he couldn’t see a thing, but he swore he could hear her smile. “No, Madelaine, we don’t.” His chest heaved beneath her hands, a heavy breath slipping out between clenched teeth. “But... to answer your other question, yes. Yes, I do trust you. In this, especially.”

As if she was lavishing him with a treat for a correct response, Madelaine pressed a fluttering kiss in the center of his chest. Then, she moved downward, her blonde hair brushing over the bare skin of his torso as she did. It felt as if there wasn’t a part of him that she wasn’t eager to touch -- with her hands, with her lips, with her hair. And with his eyes covered and his body vulnerable to her, he couldn’t help but feel claimed.  
  
His hips shifted on the cot, cock straining against his drawers where it was pinned between their bodies.  
  
“Want another?” Madelaine asked. With each word, her lips brushed against the tender skin above his navel. “Another question, is my meaning.”  
  
As before, when he heard her smile, Dutch could catch a flustered note in the way she spoke. Felt her shake her head. He knew Madelaine well enough now to know that she bit her lip to keep from laughing, that she touched over her chin when she wanted to will herself to be quiet.  
  
She was trying so damn hard. Dutch couldn’t help but smile, even as his cock throbbed.  
  
“Give me another.”  
  
Madelaine’s breath hitched. Her fingertips ran along the waist of his drawers, following the line of his belly before guiding them down an inch. It wasn’t enough to free him, but it was something. God, it was something.  
  
When she spoke again, she sounded so small, forcing herself to be quiet in order to keep from waking those who slept around them. “Do you know what I’m gonna do to you, Dutch?”  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Dutch let his head fall back as he chewed his cheek raw to keep from letting go of a moan. Hearing a woman take command of a phrase like that was enough to turn his blood to fire. To be attacked in such a way, so early in the morning, when he was still warm from sleep and defenseless...  
  
“Sweetheart, I haven’t the _foggiest_ idea of what you’re going to do to me.”  
  
Which wasn’t exactly the truth. He had something of an inkling, but he couldn’t decide whether it was wishful thinking or not.  
  
Madelaine was a timid little thing in bed most of the time, unless he was the one taking the lead. Once he had his hands on her, she came alive. The opposite didn’t seem to be true. Not until that morning, with a slip of sunlight warming the canvas to ivory and crickets churning up a fair bit of music for them.  
  
What Dutch wanted was for her to guide his drawers down and sit astride him, riding him as if his hips were a saddle. What Dutch wanted was to lean in and press his mouth to her breasts and make her squeal so loud that everyone in the camp jumped to their feet. What Dutch wanted was to feel her embrace a certain amount of abandon that she’d been nervously courting for weeks.  
  
Dutch wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, but he was learning how to embrace being surprised.  
  
He felt Madelaine coax down his drawers, felt her fingertips trailing over his hips, felt her shift her position on the cot. Even behind the blindfold of silk, Dutch shut his eyes to increase the already-tingling anticipation.  
  
And then, he felt her mouth on his cock. He felt her tongue teasing over the head, felt an almost silent moan vibrate against him. Dutch clenched both hands into such tight fists, his chest ached. His shoulders, his biceps, his wrists ached.  
  
“Oh” and “god” were the only words he let out of his mouth, and even then, his voice crackled over them before giving up entirely. He swallowed hard and squirmed against the firm surface of the cot.  
  
When he felt her grip at him, pinning him down to their bed, he let out a choked groan that broke off just as suddenly.  
  
Madelaine’s hands were rougher than he was used to. His women were usually the spoiled sort, with delicate fingers and haughtier attitudes. But Madelaine - Madelaine enjoyed working with her hands. The same could be said for what they did in bed. Even when she wasn’t taking the reins, she touched him with an eagerness that was at first endearing and later delightfully frustrating.  
  
Her palms were tough in places, and the texture was unlike anything he’d ever felt on such a small hand as her loosely curled fist stroked downward over the length of his cock.  
  
Dutch wanted to thrust upward, to feel the warm, wet inside of her mouth, to encourage her to move more quickly, take more of him, give him what he so strongly desired. Her. He wanted _her_ , but she wasn’t giving him enough.  
  
“Please,” he gasped. “Madelaine.”  
  
“Quiet,” Madelaine reminded him before any subsequent chiding was cut off as she sank down on his cock. The pressure of her mouth was slow and pulsing and just as hot as being buried inside of her.  
  
How could a man be quiet? How?  
  
She stroked him as she sucked him. She sucked him as she fondled his balls with the hand that wasn’t pinning him down to the cot. She did everything but urge him to be quiet.  
  
Dutch’s head fell back again, that time against their pillows as he gave up on the unspoken rules they set in the beginning.  
  
Trust. Quiet. Still. He was only capable of one of them.  
  
“Madelaine...”  
  
She pulled back, popping his cock out of her mouth with a gasp. She was always careful not to take too much; there was something about her unwillingness to push herself too far that aroused Dutch more than he could ever say.  
  
“Dutch,” Madelaine whispered right back. She sounded well and truly disappointed in him. “You said that you trust me. Don’tchu?”  
  
“I trust you.” Dutch lifted one of his hands, fingers eased from the tight fist to brush through the faded blonde of her hair. She tilted into his touch. Even though he couldn’t see her, just feeling that warmed his heart. “I'll try harder for you.”  
  
She touched over his stomach. Her palms were warm, almost comforting, and he wanted her to cover him in them.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
_Thank you_ rather than _I don’t believe you_.  
  
The tension in Dutch’s chest melted away as she returned to what she was doing. He wanted to do this for her. He wanted to give her this thing she wanted, this thing that he was eager to have, as well.  
  
Her mouth was heavenly, even if sometimes she grew clumsy out of her own excitement, even if sometimes she took too much and immediately drew away to catch her breath. There wasn’t a moment when Madelaine wasn’t trying her hardest to please him, and Dutch couldn’t have asked for more.  
  
With the second turn, Madelaine allowed him to move. He found that it was easier to bite his tongue if he was touching her. His fingers slipped through her hair, cupping the nape of her neck, guiding her back when he felt her pushing a little too hard.  
  
She made the sweetest sounds as she sucked him -- tiny gasps and moans that were barely loud enough for him to hear, much less the people in the camp. And as she stroked him, Dutch joined her in that.  
  
Only once more did he allow himself to speak. He arched his back, lifting himself to rub the head of his cock against her lips with a whisper of, “Good girl.”  
  
The blunt nails of one of her hands dug into his hip when he said that. She grabbed onto him and sucked harder, panting against his slick skin as she squirmed on her knees on their cot. Whether or not she looked up at him, he would never be sure, but he could imagine the red in her cheeks and the blue of her eyes. He imagined that the freckle beside her nose didn’t stand out quite so much against her skin when she flushed so prettily.  
  
“Don’t you do somethin’ like that,” Madelaine whined when she pulled away, her forehead pressed to Dutch’s stomach as she fought to catch her breath. “You know... just what to say.”  
  
“’Just what to say’?” he echoed, tone questioning.  
  
Madelaine leaned up, pulling herself away from his cock. Dutch did his best not to make some sort of pathetic noise as she did. There was something coming; he could feel the shift in the air.  
  
“Yeah.” She was closer, inches away from his face. He could smell the soap she used in her hair and a faint sweat from overnight and _him_. “You know just what to say. I don’t know what I want anymore, with you sayin’ that, is my meaning.”  
  
Dutch followed the curve of her hips with both hands. They were broad and soft to match the rest of her. “I could endeavor to help you with this decision...”  
  
“Fuck me.”  
  
“And you claim that  _I_ know what to say. Oh, Madelaine.”  
  
The heat that shot through his veins gave him the strength to snatch her up into his arms and flip her over onto her back. The narrowness of the cot didn’t matter. Precious little mattered in the moments save for getting inside of her.  
  
Dutch tugged up her nightgown, knowing good and well that there was nothing between them except thin linen and morning air.  
  
He missed the first time, thrusting his cock against the join of her hip. It was still enough to pull a rumbling moan out of him. All he needed was friction and the warmth of her body.  
  
Taking himself in-hand, Dutch used the other to navigate her body. His fingertips followed the length of her thigh before finding the slick heat of her cunt. He toyed along her lips for a moment before pressing them apart and guiding himself inside of her.  
  
Everything would have been so much easier without the blindfold, but that was her idea. He didn’t have the heart to ask her to remove it, not yet. So, he kept it on and bowed his head close to hers.  
  
“Theeere,” Dutch groaned as he sank into her, sounding more relieved than he ever had before. “There. You are  _soaking_ wet, darling.”  
  
Madelaine wrapped her arms around his neck and held him closer, not stopping until he was practically laying on top of her. He refused to give her all of his weight, but enjoyed spreading himself out over her as much as she seemed to like having him above. Her hands tangled at the ends of his hair. She sighed, laughing quietly, sounding damn near overwhelmed.  
  
“Tell me how that feels,” Dutch whispered against the steaming skin of her cheek.  
  
Again, she laughed. More of a muffled giggle than anything.  
  
“Quiet,” she reminded him, her voice straining to keep her pleasure locked up like a secret.“We have to be -- _oh_.”  
  
Dutch snapped his hips and hitched one of her legs up to better his angle. He pushed and pulled with maddening deep, but an ultimately slow pace. Her fidgeting became more and more obvious as time went on, as she began to knead at his shoulders and sigh more than moan, as she tugged him closer and tugged him closer with that same leg.  
  
“We have to be quiet,” Madelaine told him,“but we don’t have to be  _slow_.  **Please**.”  
  
“I don’t trust you with everything, darling.” He pressed his mouth to her cheek, then to her throat.“I don’t trust you to be quiet if I give you all that I can.”  
  
Madelaine tugged at his hair before curling her arms even tighter around him.  
  
“Trust me,” she gasped, breath stolen right from her mouth as he pulled his hips back. He didn’t go quite far enough to leave her entirely, but he was nearly there. Nearly.“Trust me, trust me. You can trust me. Dutch, please.”  
  
He loved hearing her resolve slowly fall to pieces around his cock. Blindfolded, he was able to enjoy that even more intensely, and his imagination helped with the rest.

“Mm, since you asked so nicely... and so desperately...”  
  
To say that Dutch gave her what she wanted was to imply that he didn’t want to fuck her just as badly. He wanted to lay into her just as badly as she wanted him to, and the moment when he decided to give in and do just that answered _their_ prayers rather than just Madelaine’s.  
  
He tugged her hips up off of the bed and began to thrust in earnest, reveling in the way she clung onto him as he plowed into her. The snap of his hips and the impact of flesh was louder than either of them had been during the rest of their morning.  
  
No whimpers and no moans could match to the sheer wall of unavoidable sound that came from fucking.  
  
Dutch could barely keep quiet himself, even still. He grunted into her neck as he bucked wildly against her, restraint forgotten what felt like years prior rather than moments. And as his hips caught against her body, he felt her squeeze around him, heard her breath hitch, felt her grab onto his hair like the locks were reins.  
  
To his surprise, Madelaine was quiet. Hushed, even, save for the occasional hitched breath and whine muffled by what he assumed was her upper arm.  
  
Dutch lasted longer than he anticipated at such a breakneck pace, pushed to the very ends of his capabilities out of sheer desire to make this into a memory rather than just another morning. He worked himself into a sweat; he worked himself until his breaths came in hard and quick, almost in time with the push and pull of his cock inside of her.  
  
The _moment_ he felt himself near his end, Dutch pulled out of her and fucked into his hand instead. Without the ability to see where he was aiming his cock, he knew there was a chance he’d ruin her nightgown or leave stains on their bedding, but at that point, he couldn’t quite register the will to care.  
  
He stroked himself until he finished with one last pump of his hips, spurting thick cum down onto what he assumed was her stomach. And by the sound of things, he hadn’t made as much of a mess as he anticipated.  
  
Dutch groaned long and low in his chest as he wrung himself dry above her, the muscles in his chest and arms and back aching from his exertion.  
  
But he wasn’t done. He _knew_ he wasn’t done.

Because Madelaine wasn’t done.  
  
“Come here,” he murmured. His throat ached from his heavy breathing and his needy fucking. There was no way around it. There was no way through it, either. Dutch knew what his lady liked, though, so he leaned down over her and spoke slowly, quietly, letting his rough words drag over her skin like callused fingertips. “Let me get you off.”  
  
He brushed his hand between her legs before pushing his index and middle finger inside of her. She gasped at the pressure, squirming against and beneath him and clutching onto his wrist with one of her powerful hands. That was the reaction he wanted from her, so he continued. He pushed. He gave her what they both wanted.  
  
Dutch rutted his fingers inside of her. With each inward push, he heard just how wet she was for him, and he’d never heard a more wondrous sound. It was the sort that left her ears pink, that made her cover her face with both hands, embarrassed.  
  
Wondrous, indeed.  
  
“Madelaine,” he whispered to her, his fingers stiff as they stirred her up inside. “Madelaine, darling, you need to do this for me.”  
  
She was quiet even still. He wanted to see. He _needed_ to --  
  
With his free hand, Dutch pushed the blindfold up over his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t see a damn thing. The morning light filtering in through the walls of the tent was blindingly bright. But as he blinked and acclimated himself to his surroundings, he saw her, and he felt that in his softening cock.  
  
Madelaine’s hair was a mess of pale blonde. Her face, red and freckled and slack. Beneath her nightgown, he could see her heavy breasts heaving with each thrust of his fingers. And on her soft stomach were streaks of off-white, thick and cooling, marking her skin in eager upward slashes.  
  
He laid into her without relenting. His wrist and forearm would ache for most of the morning, but that sweet ache would just remind him of her and their morning together and the pleasure they gave each other.  
  
Dutch stared down at her as she came, as her thighs trembled and her fingers shook where they curled around his wrist. Her breath hitched higher and higher until there was no air left for her to grasp. Only then did she let go of a sigh that entwined effortlessly with a moan so soft, no one else could hear it. He was sure of that.  
  
He eased her into a state of absolute relaxation, his fingers sliding out of her only to use the blindfold to clean up the skin of her stomach.  
  
“You trusted me,” Madelaine said after a moment of finding her tongue. She stretched to touch over his upper arm, over his shoulder, over his chest. She touched him with such gentleness that Dutch couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t even trust myself with bein’ quiet, but you...”  
  
Dutch gave his head a shake before letting the ruined strip of silk fall to the floor of the tent. Then, he wound his arms around her, bringing her close.  
  
“Not for a moment did I trust either of us to keep from waking everyone,” he confessed. His mouth brushed over her flushed cheek. “But you’ve made a believer out of me this morning, Miss Madelaine. How does that feel?”  
  
“I’m tired,” Madelaine sighed, her fingers trailing over the width of his collarbone.  
  
Dutch chuckled, his face pressed beside her own.  
  
“We only just woke up, darling,” he said. “It’s time for us to go on about our day. Though... I suggest you take it easy.”  
  
Instead of accepting that as the truth, Madelaine went limp in his embrace, her head dropping back against their pillows. “An hour more,” she whispered, licking over her bottom lip as her eyes fluttered open to peer up at him. “Stay with me for another hour.”  
  
Dutch looked around. Outside of the tent, he could hear the rest of the gang coming to life. He could pick out Pearson’s knife and Grimshaw reading the girls their list of chores for the day.  
  
But when he looked back at her, he found that he couldn’t move. She had him stuck in that very place, turned to stone as if she was some sort of beautiful, golden gorgon. There was no leaving her, not for another hour...  
  
Not for two.

 


End file.
